Lapses
by Delia Ra'Nar
Summary: About one year after Batman Begins. Alfred wakes to find the Dark Knight beaten and bleeding on the floor of the Cave. Who could have done this? And more immportantly, to whom can Alfred turn to help save the life of the city's dark hero? My first fanfic.
1. Ch 1 Home Coming

Lapses

Chapter 1: Home Coming

The insistent flashing of the red light slowly brought the elderly gentleman in the wingback chair to consciousness. He had been waiting for the return of his charge when the late hour and tension of the last few days had finally taken their toll and he had slipped into sleep. He glanced at the clock on the end table, 5:30 am. The Master was cutting his nighttime excursions dangerously close to dawn, but it was entirely possible that he had returned hours earlier and was still 'Working on the Foundations'. Alfred smiled wryly; sometimes he wondered if he would sleep down there if the elderly butler did not make his way down to the cave each night with a beverage and a firm order to bed. The answer was almost undoubtedly yes. He could be quite driven at times, Alfred though with a touch of sadness, especially if he was working on a case, as he had been for the last few days. The old man had to congratulate himself on his own cleverness, setting up a system by which he could be informed of his master's homecomings, even Bruce with his quickly forming reputation as the world's greatest detective was unaware of his additions and seemed pleasantly surprised to find the butler awaiting his return. Alfred smiled as he fetched a cup of tea, no doubt master Bruce would have some comment about slipping up in old age, to which he would respond in kind.

Three discordant notes rang out from the old piano, actually it was new, the entire mansion was new, though you would never thing so to look at it. True to his word Master Bruce had rebuilt it brick for brick after the horrible fire started by the League of Shadows more than a year earlier. Almost true to his word anyway. Acting Alfred's own suggestion they had 'improved the foundation' in the southeast wing. It now had become sort of a joke between them; whenever Master Wayne was occupied in the lower regions of the house they said he was 'Working on the Foundations'.

One of the many glass-covered bookshelves that lined the wall swung out, revealing a part of the mansion few people were aware of, only three people in the world, actually. As Alfred descended the metal elevator he automatically glanced toward the newly installed super computer, sarcastically termed by Master Bruce, the Bat computer. But Master Bruce was not at the Bat Computer, Batman was on the floor.

The lighting in the Bat Cave was poor. The Batman preferred the shadows, but even the dim light could not hide the sickly glisten on the black uniform. Alfred hastened down the hall. The Tumbler was parked haphazardly, slammed sideways into the wall; he had obviously entered out of control. The cockpit was left open; the Batman had dragged himself across the floor, obviously trying to reach the intercom, on the wall by the stair. All these things flashed through Alfred's mind as he raced to Batman's side. As he gently removed Batman's cowl he noticed fractures spanning the right side and moving up one pointed ear. This explained why batman had not called for Alfred as he had been forced to do once before because his communications relay was stationed in that ear. The dark helm slipped away from the battered face of Bruce Wayne, playboy prince of Gotham, who had been heard on many occasions to say that a man that dresses up as a bat clearly has issues. Never would the citizens of Gotham City believe that Bruce Wayne spent his nights, not in the company of beautiful women, but traversing the rooftops as the Batman. Nor would they believe that Bruce Wayne now lay in a cavern beneath Wayne Manor, cold, clammy, bruised, and bleeding.

Alfred cursed his own incompetence as he knelt beside his former ward; he had known that Bruce was still on a case, not only on patrol. The Batman had become convinced that several robberies, assaults, and possibly a murder were all connected and perpetrated by one individual. Certainly Master Bruce had been driven lately, more so than usual anyway, but nothing to cause undue alarm, especially as the investigation had hit an impasse, and no new leads had been forthcoming. Sure there were the usual problems, muggings, rapes, the occasional bank heists, but nothing that would pose any kind of threat to the Batman- wait, when did he begin to think like that? Master Bruce was far from infallible. There was always the chance that any fight, any thug could hurt the Batman, not that he would ever admit that. That was why Alfred was there, a long time ago a good man had entrusted Alfred with all he held dear in this world, tonight, he had failed.

Bruce's skin was cold. Loss of blood had rendered his skin a pallid grey and his thready breathing almost imperceptible through the armored confines of his suit. Alfred scrambled for a pulse, found one; steady, but barely, before attempting to remove the black body armor. It was much harder than it should have been. The catches were carefully hidden, and the suit would have been almost impossible to remove if the remover had no prior experience with the suit's design, Alfred, of course was intimately familiar with the workings of the suit, but the layer of blood the Batman had acquired made the catches slippery and the edges hard to grip. Alfred tried to wake Master Bruce as he did this, but the only response he got was when he attempted to remove the upper chest of the suit. This activity elicited a groan from Bruce as he grimaced and his hand twitched toward his right side. As Alfred looked at the armor he had just removed, he noticed a small hole almost hidden by two of the panels in the Kevlar weave material. It was almost impossible to get anything past the suit, even the joints were reinforced, but some one hade obviously been very lucky that night and it hadn't been Master Bruce.

Only once all the Kevlar armor had been removed, leaving Bruce in his thin, insulated, black undersuit did Alfred attempt to move the larger man as carefully as possible to the Med lab. Despite his caution he was unable to prevent a trail of blood to follow their halting progress, a gash had been torn out of the left side of Master Bruce's bat suit, and some of his flesh had decided to go along for the ride. Alfred did not wish to ponder how hard Master Bruce would need to hit something, even something sharp, before it inflicted this kind of damage on the suit.

Even without the additional pounds added by the Kevlar armor, Alfred stumbled with his burden. He struggled to lift the still form onto the Med lab table, eliciting a semi-conscious groan from Bruce.

"Master Bruce? Master Bruce!" Alfred questioned in concern as Bruce's body suddenly convulsed in racking coughs that left blood flecking his lips.

"Alfred…" Did he hear it or was he just hearing what he so dearly wanted to.

"I'm here Bruce, I'm here." But Bruce was gone once again, body relaxed, but breathing strained. Alfred carefully cut the top of Bruce's under suit off his shoulders, wincing subconsciously at the dark discolorations marring the strong chest.

Of course the Master had been hurt before, Dr. Crane's fear toxin came vividly to mind, not even in Gotham was there anyone crazy enough to claim that being Batman was without risk, but never had the physical injuries been this severe. Alfred found himself hooking Bruce up to machines and monitors he had prayed he would never have to use. Deep bruising suggested broken ribs, the gash on the left side was not deep, but it was still bleeding, bleeding after how long? Alfred quickly fetched pressure bandages to stop the bleeding and disinfectant to clean Master Bruce's other injuries. But the most disturbing rested beneath the small hole ripped through the right side of the Bat suit. Alfred was no expert, but he recognized a bullet wound when he saw one, angry red surrounded the small hole and blood leaked steadily.

It was painfully obvious to Alfred that he was far out of his depth. He would be of little use to Bruce now; he was not a trained physician, ice, bandages, even broken bones if so pressed, one did not serve a doctor for so many years without picking up a few things, but not this, not this.

But what else could he do? What other choice did he have? Whom could he call? No hospital, there would be too many unanswerable questions, impossible questions about the prince of Gotham and what exactly he did at night. The secret would get out, and Master Bruce would never forgive him for that. If he made it out of the hospital alive, unlikely given the number of underworld leaders the Batman had managed to seriously upset in the last year or so. Hospitals were out.

Whom then could he call? Who could he trust? Who would Master Bruce trust? Of course! Whom had he trusted before? Lucius Fox, appointed director of Wayne Enterprises, knew Bruce's secret, or at least suspected. Not that he would ever try to confirm his suspicions, he was much too wise for that, but that did not stop him from seeing to it that all the newest, cutting edge technology conveniently found its way to Master Bruce for his perusal. He had even gone as far as to present Bruce with something suspiciously similar to the Batman's balanced, bat-shaped projectiles, improved upon, of course. These were more akin to boomerangs, returning after being thrown, and easier to aim. Alfred almost smiled as he recalled the look in Bruce's eyes when he saw them; a look Alfred had seen a precious few times the last twenty years.

His hand shook slightly as he dialed Mr. Fox's number, part of him, a small part, still questioning this decision. After this there could be no side stepping, no pretended ignorance. The last time Alfred had been forced to call upon Lucius he had managed to carry Bruce up to his own room, but in the Master's current condition, Alfred would not remove him from the Med lab to stop all the crime in Gotham. And the Med lab was in the Bat Cave.

The phone rang, once, twice, then a steady mellow voice, with just a hint of a drawl answered:

"Hello, Fox residence."

"Lucius? This is Alfred."

"Alfred? Well this is a surprise. What can I do for you?"

"Lucius … It's- it's Master Wayne, he…" Alfred trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to continue.

"What's wrong with Bruce Alfred?" Mr. Fox asked steadily enough, yet unable to hide the trepidation creeping into his mind.

"Well sir, you know Master Bruce, sir, always getting into some sort of trouble. Well it seems he's had another one of his mishaps." Suddenly Alfred dropped his falsely light tone, "and he would rather this be kept out of the news papers." Before once again continuing, "you know how those awful tabloids are already calling him the billionaire klutz," finished Alfred with a forced laugh. A strained silence followed as Lucius Fox struggled to digest the full implication of Alfred's layered talk. Bruce was obviously in trouble, a lot of trouble if Alfred had to come to him. The last time, just over a year ago now, that Alfred had been forced to contact him, Bruce had almost died, or worse. Sometimes Fox wondered if Bruce realized how serious his condition had been, or if he cared. Because if Bruce Wayne died then HE would--. Lucius stopped that thought, that would not happen, could not happen, Gotham still needed HIM. Certainly things were better now, then before, but in Gotham, that was not saying much. And make no mistake, what had taken HIM a year to accomplish would all disappear in a month.

"How bad Alfred?"

"Quite bad, sir."

"I'll be right there Alfred."

Lucius quickly gathered whatever he thought he might be useful into a small bag. He had no real idea what would be waiting for him at Wayne Manor, he had not even thought to ask Alfred for more detail. He did, however get the distinct impression that the situation was different that last time. Yet he couldn't think of many things that could get passed the equipment of the spelunking, base-jumping billionaire. He hoped against hope he would be able to help. He cursed his busy night and decision to turn in early, perhaps he would have heard something on the news. They did sometimes follow up on HIS exploits, the ones they could get to in time, and usually HE was long gone by the time the media arrived.

They had significantly more luck with Bruce Wayne, rumors about who he was seeing now, and what he did at night. Of course their suspicions were nothing like Fox's; they ran more along the lines of the rather crude jokes told by Mr. Wayne's 'friends'. Not that he had many friends after last year's disastrous birthday party where Bruce had grievously insulted everyone in attendance before supposedly burning down his house in a fit of drunkenness, shortly after they left. Lucius was not there for this spectacle, but found it hard to believe considering that he had had a very coherent conversation minutes before he supposedly burned down his home. And that particular conversation had been about the last 'mishap' Bruce had been involved in, that one dealing with a weaponized hallucinogen that he had been infected with. If not for Alfred's call, and Fox's brilliant analytical skills, Bruce Wayne would have died along with the rest of the city. But the antidote that Lucius had come up with to cure Bruce Wayne had 'somehow' gotten into the Batman's hands, and from his to the police, where mass production and distribution saved the city after Dr. Crane and a mysterious group of terrorists tried to cover the entire city in that 'fear toxin'.

Mr. Fox quickly made his way down to his car, and forced himself to drive within the speed limit all the way to Wayne Manor. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over for speeding by a Gotham Police officer. What would he say: that he was in a hurry to make a house call on a bat? That was more likely to land him in Arkham than at the Manor.

The iron gates swung open and the drive spread majestically before him, winding up to the impressive mansion. He grabbed his bag and jumped out of his car, almost knocking into Alfred who was hastening down the steps.

"This way, Mr. Fox." With that Alfred continued down the steps to one of the many Wayne cars, waiting in the drive. Lucius numbly followed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fox," said Alfred as he slipped into the drivers' seat, "but I'm afraid I must ask you to wear this." He said as he handed Lucius a blind fold "It is for your own protection as much as anyone's, Mr. Fox," replied Alfred off his blank look. Fox nodded and secured the cloth firmly over his eyes.

Alfred's knuckles were white as they griped the steering wheel. He had decided to try and keep the location of the cave a secret. Of course, he was loath to leave the master alone for the amount of time it would need to bring visitors by the more round about road to the cave. It would only have taken minutes to bring Lucius down by either the piano entrance, or the pantry exit, but something had stopped him. And now he found himself making turns and swerves down several country roads before finally turning onto the trail that led to the Cave.

As he had sat, waiting for the perimeter alarm to warn him Fox had reached the outer gate, he had mechanically gathered the rent remains of the bat suit, and had sat down beside Master Bruce, attempted to clean the worst of the blood off of the uniform. The entire time he had been scrubbing the bat suit he had been debating the best course of action. Eventually he had decided to try and retain as much of the secret as possible, at least not admit to anything out right. The young master would surely approve, why did he find that thought more disturbing than reassuring?

He was working on a strange greenish stain when the proximity alarm sounded. He quickly opened the iron gates and replaced the suit in its cabinet before making its way to the entrance hall.

Finally he pulled through the mouth of the cave, under the curtain of water.

"We have arrived, Mr. Fox."

When he removed his blind fold and opened his eyes, Lucius Fox was greeted by the sight of a matte black tumbler. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he remembered the test drive Bruce Wayne had given the amazing car. His control over the tank-like hunk of metal was astounding, as attested to a few days latter as he watched a live coverage of the Batman driving the vehicle, literally over the rooftops of Gotham.

But something was wrong. The tumbler was at an awkward angle, as if it had come in completely out of control. The driving skills of both Bruce Wayne and the Batman were impeccable; never should the tumbler have ended up slammed into the rock face.

Alfred jumped out of the car and immediately took off toward the back of the cave. Fox followed him more slowly, taking in the enormity of the Cave, the number of the bats, and the trail of blood that was still on the floor. The smudged trail where Batman had pulled himself across the floor, the pool where he had collapsed, the drops like breadcrumbs showing the path he was carried down. All together it was a substantial amount; once again he cringed to think of what could have done this to the Batman.

He followed the path Alfred had disappeared down, the trail of blood, and he was quite surprised when he turned a corner and found himself in the Med lab- a sterile equipment-studded room carved out of the gray stone, and there on the table in the middle of the room was- Bruce Wayne. Badly bruised, with shallow breath, and bandages, hooked up to several machines. There was no sign of the Batman, or that the man before him was any more than he seemed. His chest was bare, except for the discolorations and bandages, covered in blankets from the waist down. He looked for all the world like someone who had been in a street fight, or had gotten caught by an angry boy friend, his more off beat side suggested, and for a moment, regardless of the location, Fox almost doubted this pained young man could be the Batman.

Then he met Alfred's worried eye's and was reminded that it did not matter who or what he was, he was cared about and loved, and one man's life for the last twenty years. He examined Bruce's smaller wounds, nicely cleaned by Alfred. Lucius stitched up some of the deeper ones before looking under the pressure bandages. The first he was able to fix with some imaginative suturing. When he removed the second however, all he could do was inhale sharply and shake his head. How had this happened?

"Alfred, didn't he wear his suit?"

"Of course, sir," answered Alfred with a hint of indignance, as if he would allow the master to leave without at least that much protection.

"Then how-"

"One of the reinforced joints, I believe, luck I guess you could call it," he replied morosely, obviously beating himself up for not checking the armor better. But Fox didn't have time to worry about that, there was a more pressing matter, but he did file the tone away for future reference.

"Alfred, we're going to have to take him to a hospital."

"Sir!" Alarm showing clearly in his tone.

"There's no other way Alfred…." Unless… "Alfred... I'd heard Dr. Tompkins was back in town."

"Oh?..." Leslie Tompkins was once a good friend of the Wayne family, introduced by Alfred who had once upon a time thought that just maybe… But that was a long time ago, things had changed, and he had not seen her for over a year in any case, not since before the young Master's return.

She had rather enjoyed Bruce's company when he was younger. She had even been his official pediatrician. Of course, Dr. Wayne took care of most mishaps, ones much less serious than that facing them now. She had hated what Bruce did to himself after his parents' death. As a result, her visits became less and less frequent. During the years of Master Bruce's absence, Leslie had tried to come over as often as she could to keep him company, but her work as a surgeon had taken her out of town more and more often. She had finally simply moved to Metropolis shortly before Bruce's reemergence. Alfred had tried to keep in touch, but with all the changes taking place at Wayne Manor, it was hard to find the time. They had drifted apart. But surely she would come if Bruce needed her. If Alfred needed her.

Alfred swallowed nervously. "I will ring her."


	2. Ch 2 House Calls

A/N: whoops, forgot my disclaimer! I own no part of Batman, comics, cartoon, or movie, and as I am reciveing nopayment for this story (exept the warm fuzzy feeling when I read glowing reviews crosses fingers) I can't get sued. I hope. Anyway, read and enjoy!

Lapses

Chapter 2: House Calls

Leslie Tompkins was napping in the back of the clinic that Thomas Wayne had helped to found. She stayed here now, during the brief times she was in town, anyway. Of course those times may soon be becoming more frequent. The city was looking on better times. She had been absent for well over a year, and the Gotham that greeted her as she drove in from Metropolis was vastly different than the one she had left behind. Anyone else entering Gotham city on any level other than that of its majestic skyline would see a city teetering on the edge of disaster, a horrible place full of crime and poverty. If they were smart they'd keep driving, regardless of the hour, and flee the overshadowing presence of the monstrous buildings and leering gargoyles. But things _were_ better; this was a _good_ time for Gotham, the best time in well over two decades. Leslie knew it. As horrible as the city appeared, Gotham now was to Gotham a year and a half ago, as Gotham now is to Metropolis. The police claimed this peak in the city's good fortune was due to the improved efficacy and new leadership in the police department. And wile cleaning house at the GPD was long overdue, word on the street contributed the relative drop in crime to something or someone known as The Batman. Big time crime bosses would disappear only to reappear along with evidence incriminating them, street thugs found beaten and tied, their victims unhurt, and small time drug dealers running _to_ the police, for protection, scared stiff.

Her year absence from the city had indeed brought many strange changes to Gotham, not least of which was the mysterious return of Bruce Wayne. Billionaire Playboy Klutz was the way she most often heard him described. She was of course glad he was back, for Alfred's sake if no one else's. It had been so hard for him, those years Bruce was gone, all alone in that huge soulless house, it was nothing without the people who lived there. He would never say anything, but Leslie could tell he felt he was to blame for Bruce's disappearance, somehow. Then he had been declared dead, even though Alfred fought it. Looking back, she felt a stab of guilt for not being there for him. But then Bruce resurfaced, and Alfred had his silent 'I told you so' to the people of Gotham and the world at large. He had never given up. Not that that fact stopped Bruce from apparently making a compete fool of himself soon after his return. Certainly Wayne Enterprises gave a lot to charity, it's just that… he held so much _promise_ as a young boy; he had wanted to be a doctor, like his father.

Then this Bat showed up and slowly began to save the city from itself. She had just about given up all hope in Gotham City, a large factor in her choice to move, but if one man, bat, creature, whatever he was, could make such an improvement in a year, then she felt that it was her duty to be here as often as possible to help those who the Batman could not.

Leslie sighed in her sleep, imagining the far off promise Gotham now held, when that vision was shattered by the shrill ring of the telephone. She glanced at the luminescent clock face as she reached for the receiver. 6:00 am! Why would someone phone her at such an ungodly hour? She raised the receiver-

"Hello?" she questioned groggily.

"Leslie? Oh thank goodness, listen I need you to come down to the Manor, I-I would pick you up, but time is of the essence, and I don't wish to leave Master Bruce," said the voice at the other end.

"Alfred?" she questioned, completely baffled, "What are you talking about?"

"Leslie, Bruce has- had an accident. He- well, he's been shot. I've done all I can, he needs your help."

"Shot- an accident! Bruce! Alfred, why haven't you taken him to a hosp-?"

"Please, Leslie," Alfred interrupted "I will- explain- everything- once you arrive. Trust me, please." The desperation in his voice was unmistakable.

"Of course Alfred-"

"Come quickly." The phone went dead.

Leslie jumped out of bed, scrambled into a fresh pair of clothes, and snagged the emergency bag she kept handy by the door at the clinic. Grabbing her keys, she jumped into her old car and headed for Wayne Manor.

Alfred was pacing the porch as she drove up. She had heard that the Manor had burned down, but she never would she have guessed it, the stately old house looked unchanged.

"Please, allow me, Leslie," Alfred said, indicating that Leslie move over to the passenger seat. She did as she was asked, and Alfred turned the car around and went back down the drive.

"Alfred, why did you ask me to come to the Manor if we're leaving? Where is Bruce?"

"I know that this is strange Leslie, but I assure you it is absolutely necessary. Now I need you to close your eyes- it would be best if you did not know the way.

Leslie hesitated before complying. All she wanted was to see her patient. All this cloak and dagger stuff was just getting to be annoying and extremely confusing. She felt ridiculous. Was there even a point? Was Alfred risking Bruce's life for a reason? Was Bruce even hurt? If this was all some sort of prank or- or surprise party or something equally childish, heads were going to roll. One incredulous look at Alfred was all it took to dispel any notions of trickery; she saw there the same look she had seen during Bruce's absence. The look he only showed when he had thought no one was watching the old butler as they discussed the Wayne affairs. Something very akin to despair. She covered her eyes.

After several minutes and a few turns, and curves, taken with just a little too much speed for comfort, she herd the tell tale patter of water on the roof. The car was turned off, and Alfred stepped out.

"This way please, Leslie." said Alfred's voice as the passenger door was opened, always the gentleman.

Leslie gasped in surprise as she removed her hands from her eyes. Whatever she had expected, this was not it. She appeared to be in a subterranean cavern, but one that had under gone a significant of renovation. Just in front of her was another car, and to the side of that was a huge black monstrosity that taxed the definition of 'car' to its limit. Black armor plates covered its hulking, yet strangely graceful, forward leaning body, this was not something you wanted to see driving beside you on a dark night. But even she, who knew very little about cars, could tell something was wrong with it, it looked _injured_ somehow. Maybe the angle was off… that was it, it hadn't come in straight as they had, it must have spun in out of control and slammed into the rock wall. The armor showed nothing, of course, but the angle was unmistakable, she had been to enough crash sites to recognize one. And was it her imagination, or was there actually a dent in the stone of the wall? She took a step closer to observe the wall, and saw the open hatch. It was actually more difficult to tell if the vehicle was opened than one would think, the uneven texture of the car's surface made it difficult. She also saw the blood. There was a lot of it, on the floor. It looked like the owner of the impossible vehicle, that she could have sworn she recognized, had dragged himself halfway across the floor toward the stair carved into the wall of the cave before apparently succumbing to blood loss and collapsing into a disturbingly deep pool of the rich red liquid. Then it appeared as if someone had picked up the person and carried him in another direction altogether. Whatever had happened here to whomever it had happened to, it was not pretty.

"Leslie," Alfred said softly to bring her out of her reverie. She still started as he took her arm and led her down a tunnel, following the trail of blood.

The two emerged in a sterile room that was as high tech as any hospital, probably more so. It was in such sharp contrast to the rest of the structure, that this whole experience was starting to feel more and more like a bad dream, and it was going to get worse before it got better, for there on the one bed, was Bruce Wayne.

She should have been prepared for this. After all, Alfred had _told_ her that Bruce had had an accident. But with the strange surroundings, she honestly didn't expect to find him there. Why would the Playboy Prince of Gotham, that she had heard _so_ much about, be laying in a cave with a strange car and a bunch of bats? What kind of trouble could he possibly have gotten into that would leave him, not only shot, but a patchwork of purple, red, held together by yards of thread? Where was the smiling, clumsy man she had seen on the news, where even the angry boy she had left, or had left them eight years ago? She would have gladly taken either of them over the still form that lay before her.

And why the hell hadn't he been taken to a proper hospital instead of waiting God knows how long to contact her and then for her to get from the clinic to the manor to here? Alfred must be losing his mind!

Her sudden anger snapped her out of her thoughts and allowed her medical training to take over. As she began her evaluation of Bruce's condition, the small part of her mind that was not involved with her work was thinking furiously. It took effort to get beaten this bad. She would guess that he ran into a street gang, but why would they beat him this badly and then shoot him, or shoot him then beat him? Usually that kind of thug took what they wanted and ran, especially if shooting was involved. Unless Bruce had upset some large figure around town, but surely they then would have had better aim. It's not like Bruce would have been jumping around, dodging bullets after getting pounded on.

Alfred had done a good job cleaning the wounds; many of the deeper ones had even been stitched up, including a ragged one on the left side. No knife had done that one; it seemed that it had been ripped away, perhaps by a ragged pipe-welding assailant. Amazingly all his limbs were accounted for and unbroken. She did, however have serious doubts about his ribs, x-rays would be needed. A cursory examination of the bullet wound showed her it hadn't seemed to hit any major organs, or have penetrated very far into the chest cavity at all. That was amazing, either Bruce was standing a staggering distance from his assailant, or he had on some sort of protective clothing. Regardless, the bullet would have to come out.

"Is there any thing I can help with?" asked a drawling voice from behind her. Leslie started, and turned to regard the dark figure of Lucius Fox.

"Alfred called me first; I had more knowledge of… certain things. But as you know, my area of expertise is research and lab work, not practical application." Leslie nodded distractedly. This brought up a lot of questions, but none of them were at all important right now. She knew Lucius and was glad to have his help.

"We're going to need x-rays before we do anything else," said Leslie, all business. Lucius looked at a loss; he had not had the time to discover which of the many interments did what. Alfred however quickly located the correct device and pulled it forward from the undeniably organized, yet profoundly confusing array displayed on various walls.

A short wile later, Leslie was studying various pictures of Bruce's skeletal structure. She shook her head slowly. There was no denying things could be much worse, but they could also be a great deal better. Three ribs were cracked, his skull seemed intact, thankfully, she had been very worried, Alfred said that he had received a bad blow to the head, and there had indeed been some bad bruising.

Leslie had looked over Alfred's and Lucius' work and was pleased that they had managed to stabilize Bruce. All the monitors, as well as the IV machine, had been hooked up correctly and showed Bruce to be doing… as well as Leslie could have hoped.

As much as Leslie hated to do it, she gently pushed Alfred out of the Med lab as she and Lucius prepped for surgery. Normally she would welcome Alfred's presence, but his normally unshakable manor was distinctly shaken. Most would not notice it but one who knew him well recognized the subtle signs.

Alfred paced the dark hallways of the Cave, cursing the Batman, the crusade, Bruce, but mostly himself. If only he had not fallen asleep, been more vigilant. Of all the times to lapse in his duties, the one night Master Bruce needed him most, and he had not been there. Alfred could not suppress the tear that made its way down his cheek. But he did not have to, he was alone.

Several hours later Leslie and Lucius walked out of the Med lab. They were exhausted. Alfred appeared silently offering chairs to drag into the room as well as drinks. He did not sit with them; rather he stood by the door ready to carry out any orders. Leslie recognized his 'butler mode', something he resorted to in tense situations.

"How is- Master Bruce?" asked Alfred struggling to maintain his composure.

"We have taken the bullet out, Alfred, and the bleeding has stopped. He's not out of the woods yet, but he's stable." She could almost hear the groan of relaxing muscles.

"That is... that is very good news, Dr. Tompkins." said Alfred softly as he quietly collapsed into a waiting chair.

"I'm going to take some blood samples back to Wayne Enterprises; I can make time to drop down to Applied Sciences, just to make sure Bruce wasn't infected with anything," interjected Fox "and speaking of which, could you give me a ride back to the manor, Alfred? It's almost 8:00, and the board will be asking some uncomfortable questions. Making an excuse for Bruce will be simple with the playboy image he puts forth. I'll just say he called in 'sick' everyone will automatically substitute 'hung over' and that will be the end of it. At least for today."

"I can arrange for 'Master Bruce' to leave town for a week or so, as needed." Alfred added, the business-like tone of the conversation stiffening his spine and launching himself from the chair in which he found himself. "Leslie, I would ask that you to stay and watch Master Bruce as I return Lucius to the Manor."

"I will, Alfred." But we will speak on your return, her eyes seemed to promise.

"Very well, please come this way." Alfred led the way back to the main cave and Leslie was left alone, well not quite.

"Bruce, Bruce, what happened?" No answer seemed forthcoming.

It was several hours before Fox could drag himself away from the board room and down to applied sciences. Though the department had indeed been merged with archives, he often found himself wondering down to the subterranean warehouse to ponder a problem, or simply take a break from the difficulties of running Wayne Enterprises. If only today would be so relaxing. He peered at the biological samples he had collected through his high powered microscope, not seeing anything obviously out of the ordinary; he proceeded to set up several more in-depth tests and computer analyses before returning upstairs. They would take several hours to complete. He planned to check in a few times during the day, just to see that everything was running smoothly.

It was evening by the time all was ready. The building was almost deserted; this was the last thing Fox had to do before returning home. It really had been a long day. Fox sat down at his small station and began to flip through the read outs: Normal, normal, normal for Bruce, low but expected, normal, nor-

What was that? Fox had never seen that before. And if these readings were right- He had to get to Wayne Manor, fast. The day just got longer.


	3. Ch 3 Views

A/N: To avoid too much undue confusion let me explain right off that we traveled back in time since the end of the last chapter to shortly (relatively speaking) after Fox's departure of the Manor.

Lapses

Chapter 3: Views

Alfred was sitting at Bruce's bedside as he began to awake. Lucius Fox had departed the mansion several hours ago and the butler had run out of things to clean shortly there after. Ms. Tompkins had been comfortably situated in one of the Manor's many spare rooms, after Certain Things had been explained to her. She had assured him that Bruce would not awake until evening at the earliest, but then, she did not know Master Bruce as he did. Alfred carefully put aside his book and gave Bruce his undivided attention.

"Alfred…" Bruce muttered before even attempting to open his eyes.

"Here Master Bruce."

"How…long?" came the murmured voice.

"Not long sir, under a day."

"A day… that's good…" he seemed almost to be drifting back to sleep when- "The girl, Alfred!" he exclaimed jerking upright "How is the girl!"

"What girl, Master Bruce?" questioned Alfred as he vainly tried to get Bruce to lie back down.

"The one- the one on the roof," gasped Bruce, "I tried, Alfred, and then, then I fell and… and…" he trailed off gradually subsiding as Alfred gently lowered him back down onto the pillow.

"I'm sure she's fine, Master Bruce, I'm sure she's quite fine," answered Alfred trying to calm his former ward. Apparently he succeeded for Bruce was quietly falling back into sleep. Either that or he just could not fight the medicine's pull any longer.

"Good… She was…. I …so scared… Alfred…"

"Indeed, Master Bruce," Alfred whispered "indeed."

Leslie turned over, rumpling the pristine silk sheets. She had all but given up trying to grab a short nap, even though she was very tired and was feeling every year of her hard won age. She simply had too much to think about. Alfred had finally told her. This day finally made sense. All the pieces fell into place perfectly. But she still could not believe it.

Bruce Wayne. Thomas and Martha's son. Alfred's charge. Her own sweet, dear Brucie, who used to come to her and Alfred with scraped knees, and later, a shattered heart. Billionaire Bruce Wayne, with his wasted potential, his air-headed dates, his clumsy feet, his stupid, stupid smile, and all those millions he so carelessly tosses to charity. This man- this man- was- is- The Batman. Savior of Gotham. Hope for the overshadowed. The city's own Dark Knight. Impossible.

Yet, Alfred had been so serious when he said it. There was no way it could be a joke. He had come back just ten minutes after leaving to bring Lucius back to the Manor. He had startled her because she hadn't heard any car enter. Regardless of any fleeting fright, her eyes promised a long lingering death if he did not explain the day's events, she was tired of being left in the dark. So he told her. Standing in the middle of the cave, absently wiping the spotless surface of the super computer. He told her. Told her about Bruce's true homecoming. About his crusade, his mask. His unending fight by night and façade by day.

God help her, she believed it. Believed every word of it. She admired the Bat, saw the astounding amount of good he did. But never, never would she have wished this on Bruce. Poor, poor Brucie. She silently cried herself to sleep.

He took a sip of coffee and immediately wished he had not, it was stone cold, probably had been for the last half hour. He sighed as he stared up the bat-shaped shadow swimming among the rolling clouds of Gotham's night. Never before had HE failed to answer the Signal. Of course, before, it had always been turned on in light of an emergency. He probably knew that it was nothing that could not wait. Jim Gordon chided himself for turning it on. At the time he had told himself that it was to discus a few cases of possible arson with the Bat, and any insight into the cases _would_ be appreciated, but the real reason was that he was worried.

There, he said it. He was worried about the Batman. Boy, the job must really be getting to him. If there was one person in Gotham he did _not_ have to worry about, it was the Bat. But…

Last night they had brought in Bane, a man involved in several robberies, one murder, that they knew of, and a kidnapping. If it hadn't been for the Batman, the police would never even have seen the connection between the various crimes.

The Police had tried to take Bane down before. Several weeks ago they had tracked him to an old warehouse on the docks. They had him out gunned and surrounded, but the man had been continuously injected with some sort of steroid that gave him strength and stamina far above that of a normal man. Bane had escaped, but not before putting three officers in critical.

After that, Bane had completely fallen off the radar. Until last night.

It seems the Batman had discovered that Bane had kidnapped the daughter of one of Gotham's wealthy. Don't ask how he found it out, the incident was never reported, the father said the ransom note warned against it.

The Bat went after Bane, alone, without waiting for backup. _You think he could have told me first_ thought Gordon _I guess he just couldn't wait._

By the time the police arrived at the site of the anonymously reported 'disturbance' Bane was trussed up on the roof and the girl was crying in a corner. The Bat was long gone, but he sure did a number on Bane. The muscled hulk was shriveled, it seemed that the tube that had pumped the steroid compound into his system had been severed and he was tightly wound up in a thin, high tensile metal cord secured by a bat emblem. Bane himself was unconscious, obviously suffering from withdrawals. He was also sporting several impressive bruises and several half- healed lacerations, one still had a razor sharp metal bat sticking out of it. The amount of blood on the scene surprised Gordon. Sure, Bane was cut up, but this was a little excessive. A couple of Bane's thugs were also present, out cold of course, but besides the usual bat-bruises they were fine. Forensics didn't seem to think it was worth investigating, after all, they got the guy.

Gordon had watched as they were all taken off to be interrogated. The girl, couldn't have been more than seven, kept crying about the Batman, asking where he was as she was taken back to the station. He couldn't help but wonder that himself. Gordon hung around the crime scene longer than necessary, waiting for the Bat to slide out of the shadows and take five years off his life, but no one was there. He left the roof and wandered around to the back of the building. There was some blood there too. Almost like someone got tossed off the building. With the Batman around, that was always a possibility. There was scrap of black material next to a small pool of blood were it seems the person landed. Gordon absently picked it up in a clean handkerchief. Small droplets staggered out into the road were they suddenly disappeared. A vehicle must have picked him up. Gordon wondered idly what the Batman would make of this and if he meant for one of the thugs to get away. Oh well, without Bane it would just be one more criminal, they'd pick him up eventually. Or maybe Batman already was, maybe that was why he was not here.

As it was obvious the caped vigilante was not about to emerge from the shadows, Gordon decided to get back to the station and try to make a dent in the mountain of paperwork that had built up on his desk. It was really rather hard to explain away the presence of a six foot bat in his reports.

He sat at his desk, staring blankly at his report, subconsciously playing with the handkerchief in his pocket. He drew out the material, unfolded it and shifted his gaze to the stiff black fabric it surrounded. There was blood on it, he noted idly. Something about it bothered him. On a hunch he sent it down to forensics for analysis. Technically, you weren't supposed to use police equipment without authorization and/or a direct connection to a case. But he had a few friends down there, and after calling in a few favors, he was assured that no one could get in trouble for this, and it would be kept off record, strictly between friends.

Several hours and a stack of papers later, the report came back. The material was a Kevlar blend and there was blood on it, human, probably more than one person's, other than that, nothing overly unusual. Except, who would wear Kevlar? Not any thugs Gordon had seen… Batman? Could it be? Should he light the Signal? - No, it was almost six o'clock a.m., the Bat would be back in his cave, or where ever bats go during daylight hours. He was tired, there had to be another explanation.

That's why he was standing on the roof top of the police station, cold coffee in hand at eight thirty the next night.

And the Batman wasn't coming.


	4. Ch 4 Complications

Lapses

Chapter 4: Complications

It was late in the evening and Alfred had already made himself and Dr. Leslie a quick but filling supper and was bringing down some bracing tea. After Bruce's brief awakening, he had slept deeply and peacefully. In fact, Bruce had more peace than Alfred had. Ever since Leslie had rejoined him in the Cave, significantly refreshed, she had been grilling him as to the young master's true activities during not only this last year, but during those of his mysterious absence as well. Alfred, she found, was a tough nut to crack. He eventually consented to tell her of several of the Batman's triumphs, and a few of his daily struggles. To Leslie, he seemed to be imploring her to understand and accept his charge, and to help his old shoulders bear the burden that was the Bat.

On other subjects, however, such as Bruce's private feelings or deeper struggles, he refused to say a word. He simply turned on his most impeccable British Butler stare and inquired after her time in Metropolis or if she would be wanting tea after supper? As much as it may annoy Leslie now, she did understand, and admire Alfred's loyalty to Bruce, and respect as to his privacy.

Speaking of Bruce, Leslie was amazed at how quickly he was recovering. In just one day, he had made the progress of at least two; many of his smaller lacerations had already healed. Alfred told her that Bruce had always recovered quickly from his run-ins with Gotham's own special breed of criminal, but even he was surprised at his progress. Well, one can always be thankful for small favors.

Alfred had just descended into the Cave when he heard the alarm. Someone had activated the Signal. Leslie's voice, raised in protest, soon joined the klaxon. Tea tray all but forgotten, Alfred ran towards the Med Lab. The sight that greeted him was not one that he expected to see for several weeks. Master Bruce was out of bed, or trying to be anyway, Leslie had resorted to attempting to physically keep Bruce from rising. It was obvious to Alfred that Bruce was restraining himself, if he had wanted to, regardless of his condition, Alfred was sure Bruce could have hurled the smaller woman across the room.

"Master Bruce! What do you think your doing!" Bruce visibly flinched at the old butler's tone, one that he had not heard since he was seven and Alfred had walked in on young Bruce's disastrous attempt to make breakfast for his parents.

"The Signal is lit, Alfred," replied Bruce, as if that should explain everything.

"Sir," said Alfred, deliberately placing the tea tray, with its spilled contents, firmly on a table before forcefully turning off the siren. "Tonight there is no Signal."

"What if it's about Bane, Alfred, what if he escaped after all? I can't take that chance." Alfred looked into Bruce's eyes and saw a strange, glazed determination. Something was very wrong. He picked up the petite woman and moved her resolutely, carefully out of his way before making his way towards the tunnel that connected the lab to the main Cave. Alfred spared Leslie a worried look before following Bruce's unwavering, unsteady progress into the cave. Bruce made it all the way to the wardrobe in which the bat-suit was kept, an amazing feat in its self, but he left the butler behind, so rapid was his pace. Alfred caught up with him just as he collapsed before the case. Alfred knelt beside Bruce as Leslie appeared behind him.

"It's alright, sir, it's alright."

"Alfred. It's not Bane. I stopped him. I stopped him before he could hurt her. Didn't I, Alfred?" Glassy brown eyes begged him to make everything right, just as they had so many years ago. But Alfred still did not have enough answers.

"I cannot say, Master Bruce, but I will discover it, and inform you as soon as I do. Will that suffice?" Bruce nodded dumbly "Now, young man, I am ordering you back to bed at once. Is that understood?"

"Yes…Alfred..."

"Good boy," he said softly as he helped his charge stand. Gradually they made their way back to the Lab. Slowly walking by a worried Leslie. Together Leslie and Alfred managed to get Bruce back on the bed, reattaching those lines and monitors he had so carelessly pulled. Whatever brief surge of strength Bruce found was now thoroughly depleted, leaving him barely conscious. After a brief consultation, Leslie injected a sedative into Bruce's IV line, to prevent any further excursions. At least until they understood how and why this had happened.

"Alfred?" came Bruce's subdued voice as the medication began to kick in. "isn't that Dr. Leslie?"

"Yes, Master Bruce."

"You're not ill, are you Alfred?"

"Rest assured I am well."

"That's good…"

"Indeed, Master Bruce."

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Leslie?"

"What does that flashing mean?"

"Someone is at the gate," replied Alfred, moving to a small bank of monitors not taken up with medical readouts. "It's Mr. Fox; perhaps he has the answers to some of our questions. I'll meet him at the Manor."

A/N: just wanted to thank all of you who have been reading this, especialy those of you who took the time to review. So please continue to do so. Especialy the review part. : )


	5. Ch 5 Theory

A/N: Any one wondering what exactly Fox has to say, that he's been trying to tell everone for the last few chapters? Well wait no longer!

Lapses

Chapter 5: Theory

Fox pulled into the Manor's circular drive to be greeted almost immediately by Alfred. If he didn't know better he would think that the man never left the door. But that was ridiculous, someone kept that huge house in impeccable order, and he was pretty sure it wasn't Bruce. _Focus Fox, I know it's been a hard day, but concentrate._

"Alfred! Good, look, I've brought over some of Bruce's test results and I think-"

"We have a problem."

"Exactly. Now, we need to watch for- wait. You've already had a problem?"

"Master Bruce seemed to be doing extremely well," explained Alfred as he and Lucius made there way to the bat cave, via the outside road, as before, this time neglecting the extraneous lanes. "Dr. Leslie and I were, quite frankly, amazed but delighted at the progress he was making. Then, just prior to your arrival the- an alarm went off and Master Bruce became very agitated. He refused to listen to reason. He pushed past Leslie and I-"

"Wait," interrupted Fox "he got out of bed?"

"Yes and moved with incredible speed, especially considering…"

"That would seem to fit with my results," muttered Fox to himself as they entered the Cave. "I found a strange contaminant in Bruce's blood, and while it does seem to aid in the generation of platelets and several other desirable physical functions, but I fear these things do not come without a price. Where is Leslie?"

"With Bruce, we have him sedated, but I did not want to leave him, just in case he overcame the medication." Lucius nodded as they headed inward.

A quick conference in the med lab brought Leslie up to speed.

"We simply don't have enough information," said Leslie in frustration "what exactly _happened _?"

"It is high time we found that out, Doctor," said Alfred striding purposely towards the Bat computer. He was no where near as proficient at hacking as Master Bruce, but the old butler was nothing if not resourceful. As it turned out, Master Bruce had an established back door into the Gotham City Police files; it probably had something to do with all those computers Wayne Enterprises had donated, not that he would ever pry or anything… In just a few minuets Alfred had pulled up all the police reports for the previous night. Several mentioned the Batman, not directly of course, but from what he could discern, they were just the usual run-ins with attempted rapists and robbers.

"Put the sightings in chronological order," suggested Leslie. Alfred was way ahead of her. The last mention of the 'Citizen' was filed by none other than Gordon himself. It seemed that a dangerous criminal, styling himself 'Bane' had been brought in late last night. In itself, not terribly unusual, Gotham had more than its share of dangerous criminals, and most of those sported over the top and completely unmerited names, a trend started ironically, by the 'dark knight' himself. But this instance, the perpetrator had already been subdued. This strongly suggested the involvement of the Batman. That and Master Bruce had mentioned this particular character in connection with his latest case. Alfred printed several hard copies of the report; he didn't trust computers that much.

"This Bane person, the report says that he used a form of stimulant to give him his 'super strength', if you'll pardon the cliché," said Leslie as she sifted through the medical reports that Fox brought, comparing them to the police report. The three had moved to a table set up in the main cave, monitors would alert them to the slightest change in Bruce's condition.

"It also says that to bring him down the 'Citizen' cut the tubing that introduced the stimulant. Could that be what we're looking for?" asked Alfred also buried in a report.

"With all the lacerations Bruce came in with, I don't see why not." Fox said as he dug out another police report from the pile in front of them. After concluding that Bane was indeed at the root of their current difficulties, Alfred had pulled all available files on the man. A rather grisly character indeed. The last time the police had tried to take him down he had decimated their ranks, leaving three in critical condition while he himself escaped unscathed. Well that wasn't strictly true. According to witnesses Bane had been severely 'scathed', it just didn't slow him down one bit. In fact, it seemed that Bane had been shot multiple times but that his wounds had been almost healed by the time he jumped the last police barricade, an assumed side effect of the steroid. This fact cemented the idea that this steroid was responsible for Bruce's unusual behavior in the minds of his self appointed support team.

"What we need now," continued Fox "is a sample of the drug."

"How are we going to get that?" asked Leslie "Just walk into GPD Headquarters and ask them for a sample of an illegal and probably classified drug on behalf of the Batman? That's a one way pass to Arkham if I ever herd one." The elderly woman paused for a moment as if listening to the silent echo of her own words, "I'm sorry," she said with a sigh "This kind of thing makes me wish the Batman had a sidekick who could go explain things to the police without blowing his cover. Don't look at me like that, it would make perfect-"

"The batsuit," said Alfred, struck by a sudden thought.

"What?"

"I just recalled, as I was putting up the Batman's armor I remember seeing several strange green stains. Usually it does not do to dwell on the origins of such things, but in this case…?"

"It can't hurt to try," interjected Leslie, voicing all their feelings. The suit was removed from its wardrobe and subjected to a thorough examination. Sure enough there were the remains of a strange green tinted liquid. Fox wasted no time in procuring several samples.

More than a few minuets later Fox emerged from the cave's forensics section with proof positive that this steroid was indeed what was affecting Bruce.

"The steroid does give incredible powers to the person using them, releasing a massive dose of hormones and a dangerous amount of adrenaline. The compound itself is extremely complex, a mixed drink containing more stimulants than most physicians can name. Not something to be taken with, or with out, professional supervision."

"I don't understand," said Leslie looking over this latest stack of paperwork, "With this kind of abuse, how does the body function for more than a few hours, tops?"

"There is an unidentified substance, here," said Fox pointing to a specific part of the readout, it all looked like Greek to Alfred, probably was come to think of it… "I'm assuming that it is some kind of inhibiter, or regulator that keeps the body from being completely overwhelmed."

"If that is so, why did it not help Master Bruce?" questioned Alfred.

"I imagine something like this would have to be tailored to precisely fit the physical profile of one person, would it not Lucius?" responded Leslie.

"Quite," said Fox "this mixture would be quite dangerous, even deadly if not perfectly customized."

"But with the small amount that Bruce would have absorbed through his cuts shouldn't be enough to do any permanent harm." Leslie quickly added, noticing the abrupt color loss in the butler.

"Not if we play our cards right," agreed Lucius "Now that we know the cause, the cure shouldn't be that hard to find."

"Under normal circumstances I would almost be tempted to leave well enough alone, allow the drug to leave the body on its own," said Leslie, almost to herself.

"But these are not normal circumstances, given the odd nature of the drug itself, coupled with Bruce's other, unrelated injuries…," he trailed off.

"Quite right. Where should we start?" asked Alfred in his most businesslike manner.

"First we need to isolate and replicate the inhibitor, then find the correct amount to administer; we'll be able to treat several of the side effects by more conventional means. Alfred do you know if there is any…" the three quickly fell into the efficient working atmosphere of those who have worked together many times before.

A/N: As always, looking forward to reviews as much, if not more than, you guys are looking fowared to the next chapter, so please respond!


	6. Ch 6 Awakenings

A/N: Be heartened, oh reviewing ones, I know the chapters are short, but they are leding up to somthing realy cool ...at least I think so. Just keep reading!

Lapses

Chapter 6: Awakening

Two days later found Alfred reading complacently in the Med lab. Fox had returned to his normal schedule after that night when they cracked the code of the steroid. 'Venom' it was titled by the police, Alfred and Leslie had been keeping up with Bane through normal channels, aka newspaper and television, as well as Master Bruce's very handy back door. Seems the police had no trouble pining him for his crimes courtesy of an anonymous transmission laying out all the evidence, Alfred found the packet ready for delivery when he checked the Tumbler's records. Master Bruce really did plan ahead. Speaking of whom, there were defiant stirrings coming from the direction of the bed. The medication that Mr. Fox and Dr. Leslie had concocted had done wonders for the young Master, barring a few nightmares, which may have had nothing to do with Venom; Bruce had the most peaceful, uninterrupted sleep in years.

"Alfred?" came the expected question.

"Here, Master Bruce." Responded the Butler, fighting down a sense of deja vue.

"How long this time, Alfred?"

"Four days sir."

"Ha. Beat my own record."

"Very amusing, I'm sure, sir," responded Alfred dryly.

"Ugg," grunted Bruce as he pulled himself into a sitting position. His hand snaked to his chest where a dull ach had taken up residence.

"Sir?" questioned Alfred's concerned voice.

"I'm fine, Alfred."

"Of course you are, sir." Was that a hint of sarcasm in his voice? Bruce shook his head, same old Alfred.

"I seem to recall Dr. Tompkins being here, Alfred."

"Indeed sir, some of your injuries were… rather severe." Bruce accepted this with a nod.

"How much does she know?"

"Everything, sir."

"Well that's… unexpected."

"Indeed, sir." There was a pause as Bruce assimilated what this would mean for the Batman. In all he could not say he was displeased, except perhaps for the danger it put Leslie in. Suddenly another thought occurred to the still battered crusader:

"Bane, Alfred, what happened to him?"

"Carefully packed away for now, probably looking at an extended stay at Arkham at the very least, but the police and DA seem to be aiming for BlackGate, and I must say sir, I agree with them."

"The evidence in the Tumbler?"

"Safely delivered to Gordon, anonymously, of course."

"And the girl, Alfred. Tell me she is safe."

"Young Miss Jenn Greentree was safely returned to her family, before any ransom money could be extracted. Other then a few bumps and bruises her biggest concern seemed to be the welfare of the Batman, at least according to official reports. I believe a short visit might be in order as soon as the Batman returns."

"They finally put the Batman in official reports?" asked Bruce skeptically, relief evident in his voice.

"Well, perhaps I filled in a few names, sir."

"Of course." There was a slight pause as Bruce's still cloudy mind waded through some information. "Alfred, have many people noticed the Batman's absence?" Alfred hesitated before answering, giving Bruce all the answer he needed, but the Butler continued anyway.

"Well sir, I know Gordon will have noticed. If you recall, he activated the Signal the night after it happened. Needless to say the Batman did not show." Bruce's head fell slightly at his failure, but his eyes remained fixed on Alfred as he continued, "The – less upstanding citizens surely know that something is keeping the Dark Knight away, but I don't know the specifics. My underworld connections are not as strong as yours, I'm afraid, Master Bruce." He said with a wan smile, "Fortunately the press don't suspect anything, yet, I expect that they've been too busy covering the Bane issue, and wondering what sort of business Bruce Wayne has in the Caribbean."

"Oh, is that where I am?" asked Bruce with a tired smile, "I bet I'm having lotsa fun."

"No doubt, Master Bruce," smiled Alfred, watching his former ward fall back into a healing sleep.

Later that night, after Leslie returned from the Tompkins/Wayne clinic, the three of them were eating in the med lab, soup for Leslie and Alfred, broth for Bruce. They were finishing up their meal by laughing at some Alfred told tales of a younger Bruce's indiscretions, the latest one being about Bruce, a box of crayons, and a chicken that was supposed to be served for dinner. Bruce's laugh was not a thing often heard, and Alfred was savoring the time, until Bruce grimaced and clutched his side.

"Are you feeling much pain, Bruce?" asked a concerned Leslie.

"It's not bad, really."

"Master Bruce would say that if his limb was being hacked off by a blunt instrument."

"Actually that Venom may have been some what of a blessing. No, seriously," said Leslie to their blank stares, "there was no lasting damage from it, and it managed to accelerate Bruce's healing by at least three weeks."

"Yea, go figure that Bane would actually help me… sort of."

"Master Bruce," asked Alfred hesitantly, "if you don't mind my asking, what actually happened to the Batman that night?"

"It's okay Alfred, I don't mind." assured Bruce. "The night started off slow, the Batman made his usual rounds…

A/N: suspence! Next chapter already posted, read on! (and review.. don't forget that!)


	7. Ch 7 Routine

Lapses

Chapter 7: Routine

A/N: due to some understandable confusion Bruce's story/flashback has been changed to bold print in this, and all following chapters. Thanks guys.

**The last bits of sunlight struggled to hang on to the ragged horizon as a dark shape dropped into view. Crouched precariously on the edge of the roof, the wind solemnly whipped the long, dark cloak around the poised figure. Time passed and one could almost forget that the shadow was alive; rather it seemed another of Gotham's many gargoyles. The shade loved this time of quiet, those of the day were preparing to go to their rest, and those of the night had yet to emerge. Its tense form gave no indication, but he was indulging himself in a moment of introspection. The Batman had been active in Gotham for well over a year now, the brooding figure hanging on the fringes of the society, a dark threat in the minds of those who would do wrong. He just wished it helped more. A sharp cry snapped the silhouette into action, time to get to work. Launching himself from the roof top, the Batman fell a few seconds before spreading his wings. Three buildings over, a girl was backed up against a wall, three thugs whispering threats. They would never be able to make good on them. Thug number one suddenly fell, in his place stood a towering shadow with horned ears. They had heard of this man- creature. They knew he held no love for them. They barely had time to raise their hands in a semblance of defense before being laid low by the Dark Protector. The girl was having trouble comprehending what just happened, one moment she was terrified, then her tormenters were on the ground and a horned apparition was looming over her.**

"**Do you have a cell phone?" came the dark, gravely voice. What ever she was expecting, that question was not it. She managed a mute nod.**

"**Call the Police."**

**She dug in her purse, drawing out the faintly glowing object. When she looked up the shadow was gone, and her aggressors bound. Shakily she dialed three digits.**

A/N: sorry, couldn't resist a bit of pure Batman, story will defiantly pick up in next few chapters. (reviews always welcome)


	8. Ch 8 Connection

Lapses

Chapter Eight: Connection

**The Batman was long gone by the time the time the police arrived at his first intervention of the night. Four other such encounters and two attempted robberies latter found the Batman perched on the side of Wayne tower, the last robbery had involved no less then ten men, and better trained that your average thug, no real problem for the Batman, even so, the caped crusader thought it earned him a slight reprieve. So he rested, hanging off a ledge, fifty stories above the ground.**

"It was only chance that I overheard the call, we need to work on the design of the listening device, I think it has a few circuits lose."

"Certainly, Master Bruce, but just what did you over hear?"

"Right. The device picked up the voices in the otherwise deserted building…

"**That's right, Greentree, and if you ever want to see your daughter alive, the money better be there."**

"**It will I promise."**

"**And no calling the cops either, we'll know."**

"**I remember, no cops, I understand."**

"I recognized the voice. Richard Greentree is on the board of Wayne Enterprises, a good man. His wife was killed during the League of Shadows incident last year. During the informal lunch I had with him two weeks ago, his daughter was almost all he could talk about…

**Richard slumped as he hit the end transmission button on his speaker phone. The plushness of his office mocked him as he tried to align his thoughts of the facts: his daughter had been kidnapped coming home from school earlier that day. It had been their butler's day off and she was going to get a ride home with one of friends, he had offered to leave work early and pick her up himself, but he had a board meeting and she didn't want him to miss it. How he wished now that he had insisted. Bruce and Lucius were decent enough, and wouldn't have minded, providing he didn't make a habit of it. Heck, he could have taken a month's paid vacation and he doubted that Bruce would bat an eye. Ever since his wife died during that thing with Crane, Bruce had made sure Greentree knew he had his full support. Almost like he felt guilty, not that he could have done anything to stop it. Still the guy was all right in his book. But this drifting was simply him trying to avoid reality. He was going to need to make a withdrawal from the First Gotham Bank as soon as it opened if he cleaned out all his savings and most of his checking he should be able to come up with the needed sum. Should. His head fell into his hands. A soft swish of material caused him to jerk up. What he saw almost made his heart stop. A black phantom stood silently across his desk. **

"**Wh-who?"**

"**What did he say." From any other person it would have been a question. From this gravely voice dragged from somewhere sixty stories below them, it was anything but.**

"**Are you… the Batman?"**

"**I am," rasped the Voice, "I can't help you unless to tell me what was said."**

"**Help. But they said no police."**

"**I'm not the police." If he tried really hard he could almost hear an undertone of ironic humor in the Batman's voice.**

"**Obviously, sorry, just have a lot on my mind. What do you know?"**

"**Your daughter was kidnapped," came the deadpan answer, "I need to know what the kidnapper said."**

"**He said that I was to leave six million dollars in the sixty-third warehouse by the docks at ten tomorrow morning and they would release my daughter."**

"**Did he say anything else?" **

"**Yes he said that that the bane of a man was often his family. I thought that rather odd at the time. What do you make of it Ba-" but Richard found himself alone in the room.**

A/N: And the plot advances! Feel free to continue on as I have already posted the next chapter. And review, always!


	9. Ch 9 Information

Lapses

Chapter 9: Information

"Now that I knew the approximate location of the girl, not to mention a possible connection to Bane, all I needed to do was ask my usual informers around the neighborhood, they're always willing to help…

"**Stop! Pease! Put me down!" screamed the terrified thug**

"**Down? Are you sure?" questioned the Batman with a decidedly demonic edge. Suddenly the erstwhile villain dropped a jolting six feet.**

"**No, please, what do you want!" cried the man. He cracked; the Bat knew he would, dangling several stories over a busy street tended to do that to people.**

"**Activity on the streets. I want to know whose hiring."**

"**Uh, I dunno. The usual."**

"**Anyone new?" the Voice writhed with menace. **

"**Naw, no one, Bats. Promise" The line went slack, jerking straight only a foot above the rushing cars.**

"**You're lying. I don't like being lied to," growled the Bat.**

"**All right, all right… there is this one guy, but I don't have nothing to do with him, honest. I hear he'd as soon kill you as pay you."**

"**Name."**

"**Bane."**

"**Where."**

"**I- I can't say…" the Bat dragged the man's quivering mass toward his face.**

"**Where?" He growled eye to eye with the thug. **

"**An old building, fifty-second street, I think! Come on man, don't hurt me!" suddenly the man dropped and landed hard, not on the ground, the roof. **

"**Go to the police, they'll protect you. Otherwise either Bane or I will get you." By the time the thug looked up, the Bat was gone. God, the man never wanted to get any where as much as he wanted to get to the police station. He only hoped his legs would get him there.**

"Fifty-Second Street wasn't Bane's main base of course, but once there it was a simple matter to track him to the condemned building where he had taken up residence. I was amazed at how easy it had been. Maybe I let my guard lapse, I don't really know but I should have been more prepared for what awaited me…

A/N: ominous music And on that note I'll leave you... to review! Bwa-ha-ha! Sorry... but please do!


	10. Ch 10 Dual

Lapses

Chapter 10: Dual

A/N: here it is guys, the show down! So read, relax, and _review. _

**The night was at its darkest and no moon could be seen in the cloud choked sky. A shadow within shadow moved along the side of a building. The cowled figure had deduced that the kidnappers were holding the hostage in a middle room half way up the structure's height. The Bat didn't think that he was expected but that didn't make getting to the room any easier. The boarded window did little to slow him as he quietly made his way inside the gloomy structure. Guards. There had to be guards. Where were they? There. A rustle made the languid guards turn, raising their guns slightly. The Batman doesn't like guns. A foot lashes out. One gun gone. A fist. One thug down. Not enough room to maneuver. Gunfire in the dark. Dodged. Another ringing shot. Pain. That was one lucky -- The Batman suppressed a growl of pain. A terrified whisper:**

"**Why didn't you die?"**

**Fist to jaw. Silence. Not even a whimper. The Kevlar hadn't held. He could feel the cold metal in him. It hadn't gone very far. Shouldn't be life threatening. If he got it seen to soon. And he would. Right after he got the girl. **

**Sounds were coming from the other side of the door. Footsteps. They had heard him, they knew he was there. The door was locked, so he kicked it down. They already knew, so speed took precedent over stealth. They were headed for the roof; he could here the girl's muffled cries. He redoubled his efforts.**

**He slid over the side of the building. Most of the goons were clustered around the roof exit stairway, waiting for the Bat to burst forth in a chilling display of physical ability before being mowed down under their guns. Good thing he decided to take the alternate route. It hadn't been difficult either. Just slip out the first window he came to, then scale to the roof. Okay, honesty, it had been hard. The bullet had wedged itself between two of his ribs on his right side. Every time he used his gauntlets to pull himself up he could feel it shifting and grating. Pain, it was there. No it wasn't. Focus. There is no pain, no distraction. He could do this. This one small thing.**

**The men clustered around the roof access didn't notice when the ones on the outskirts of their group began to disappear. They were standing, and then suddenly they weren't. No one noticed until their number had been almost halved. Seven more.**

"**Wha? Hey, wher'd they go"**

"**Hel-" Six.**

"**It's Him."**

"**Who?"**

"**The Bat. Who else?"**

"**Oh. My. G-" Five.**

"**Keep your eyes open, he's just one guy."**

"**That is no man. It's a demon."**

"**Ahhugg-" Four**

"**Mummph!" Three.**

"**Where is he?"**

"**Here," whispered a rasping voice from the shadows, all the shadows "in your nightmares." Suddenly he was between the two men, seeming to have dropped from the sky. Elbow to face, down. Strike to neck, out. One left.**

**The dark phantom rose from where it had been crouched, vampire-like over its prey. Slowly it turned to face the remaining gunman. Gun boy more like, couldn't even get a good grip on his weapon, his hands were trembling so bad. The Dark Knight snatched it from his hands and flung it away before the boy ever realized that he had begun to move. Then his feet were suspended above the floor.**

"**Now," came the guttural growl, "tell me where the girl is."**

"**She is here with me Bat- Man. She's very pretty. Have you come to steal her away then?" The menacing, mocking voice came from behind the stair. "To do that, you must defeat me." A large, muscled man emerged from the shadows dragging the terrified child.**

"**Then I will." rumbled the Bat dangerously.**

"**Impossible, for I am Bane! Your bane."**

"**We'll see…" hissed the dark knight before snapping a kick to Bane's head. Bane reeled back slightly, more out of reflex than pain, just as the Batman had hoped. With a dark swirl of his cloak the girl seemed to disappear. Stroking the girl's head with surprising tenderness, the Batman gestured for her to remain still and quiet in yet another shadowy corner before reappearing before Bane, secure that she was as safe as he could make her at the moment. He had scum to clean. **

"I never should have gotten shot."

"Master Bruce, surely if anyone is at fault it is I, for not taking bett-"

"No, Alfred. It was my fault. And even after I wasn't thinking straight. I had read the reports on Bane. I knew how dangerous he was. I had seen the wreckage, the medical and coronary reports of those who got in his way. But I was sure I could take him. I was injured, but I was still so sure. So damn sure…

**Smack! Batman slumped down the side of the low wall. That had hurt. In one smooth motion the Bat was back on his feet and circling his opponent. He was tough, this Bane, but not superhuman, Batman could beat him. It would just be a challenge. Time to bring out the cool toys. **

**Parry, block, role, strike. Wait for it. Release. One of Fox's bat-modified boomerangs flew from the Batman's hands. His aim was perfect. The blade imbedded itself deep in Bane's hand.**

"**Ahhhg! Very well, rodent. You will see the full glory of Bane!" The man hit a button secreted in the design of his one gauntlet. A pale green liquid rushed through the tubes connected to the back of Bane's skull. For a frozen moment nothing happened, then Bane cried out, as if in pain. Then he began to grow. Not in height, but in mass. His muscles expanded to twice their previous size and suddenly it was if he hadn't just spent the last ten minuets staving off one of the most skilled fighters in the country, simply done a few warm up exercises. But most remarkable of all, as he slowly drew the- the baterang from his hand, the wound began to close, not magical poof close, but visibly began to heal. It was amazing. Until the fist came at his face. He managed to dodge the full force, but got clipped on his shoulder. Focus! Do not allow your attention to lapse, one of the first rules, no distractions! The force of the blow sent him back into the wall. His ribs creaked dangerously, so did the wall. This needed a new strategy. Don't get hit.**

**The Dark Knight became a blur of movement, poetry with a deadly intent. His earlier wound forgotten, pain ignored, he was as untouchable as shadow, but as felt as time. He landed dozens of strikes, each one of which would have felled a normal man, while still managing to stay a step ahead of his opponent's far more powerful, yet less maneuverable blows. Bane would not forget the Bat. **

**Unfortunately time was not on the Knight's side. He was beginning to slow while his opponent showed no sign of tiring. Even worse, the regenerative properties of Bane's drug prevented the Batman from inflicting any real damage. In mounting desperation Batman took severs baterangs from his belt releasing a handful for cover while griping one as you would a knife. He had a city and a little girl to protect. He was done playing nice.**

**Bane reared back as the blades hit him, then flailed as the dark form of the Knight vaulted onto his now massive shoulders. He screamed as he felt the Bat-shaped blade dig in. Batman had an idea forming in his clouding mind. All he had to do was hang on long enough to carry it out. Unfortunately, Bane had other ideas.**

**Getting a firm grip on the caped crusader's ankle, he swung the Batman from his perch, causing the makeshift knife to be dragged through his flesh until the Batman could no longer hold on to it. It would be a long scar. **

**Once the Bat lost his grip Bane swung him around by his ankles and smashed the Dark Knight against the corner of the steel stair entrance. Ribs just went. Pain from old and new injuries flared up. Agony redoubled its assault on his mind, and for a moment all but this internal struggle ceased to exist. When the world filtered back in, Bane was talking again:**

"… **rather disappointed. I thought that you would fight a little longer. Defender of Gotham. City's hope. Bah. I am hope's bane!" he sneered, mocking the fallen knight, but there may have been a catch in his breathing, and many wounds inflicted by the Batman still bled. The Bat tried to respond, but his battered body betrayed refused to move past the pain even if his mind chose to ignore it. "Come now, good Bat, let's see how well you fly," continued the hulking figure as he casually picked up the motionless Knight and turned to the building's edge. "Then I will attend to that precious bundle you so carelessly hid in the corner."**

**The Batman looked and his eyes met the girl's large frightened ones, even as Bane's muscled arms lifted the masked man aloft. He would not allow Bane to touch her, would not allow her to come to harm. As Bane launched the Bat up and out into the abyss, the Dark Knight did not reach for his grapple gun, even though he could well still have saved himself. Instead he grabbed his newest blend of Fox's ingenuity and Batman's need. His plan, the one formed and still clinging to his clouded mind, could still work. But his aim needed to be perfect. It was a good thing he was the Batman, because the Batman never misses.**

**Just before he hit the apex of his arc, before he had even cleared the roof, the Batman released a long, high tensile cord suspended between two weighted, razor-sharp bats. Bane didn't have a chance, he thought that the Bat was gone, he didn't even see the attack coming, he had already turned to take care of the terrified girl. The bat-shaped metal ripped out the cord that pumped his steroid into his system. Green fluid sprayed everywhere while the weighted ends wound around his shrinking body, much like a bolo. But a bolo with teeth. When the ends wrapped around a final time they buried into flesh as well as around the cord. This was not a toy. Bane fell. Far short of his prey and far short of the muscled hulk he had been. He would do no more harm tonight, but lie there, helpless, until the police arrived. Unfortunately the Batman saw none of this.**

**As just as the Batman began to truly fall, he saw his weapon slice through Bane's tube, then he saw green. Then he felt fire. All his wounds were invaded by the strangely colored foreign substance and it burned. Suddenly a new pain entered his world. His flight had been arrested by a ragged rust- eaten pole of forgotten use that bent under his impact. The jagged edge of the pole ripped a gash in his lower back, near the left side. It tore his armor away with the skin. Apparently even it was never meant to go up against Bane. His ribs shifted, the bullet grated, and he felt every roll, dodge and hit of his life. He made his way down the six stories of the building by hitting the pole then the wall, then the pole. It probably saved his life. For some reason he could not find it in himself to be grateful.**

**Arrested momentum or not, he still hit the ground hard, and seeing how he was not in control of his motion at that time, the fates decreed that he land mainly on his head. Thank God and Alfred for reinforced headgear. **

A/N: well now you know what happened... sigh there goes my secret... oh well. Don't think this is it though, after all Batman's not exactly safe yet. Review (please) and read on!


	11. Ch 11 Hard Journey

Lapses

Chapter 11: Hard Journey

"I'm sorry, sir, but are you telling us that you actually landed on your head?"

"Pretty much. It's a good thing we got that new shipment of cowls in."

"Indeed, sir," said Alfred fervently, remembering the helm that had shattered after he had swung at it with a simple baseball bat.

"But you know, I don't think they ever got the graphite mixture just right, because…

**After a few minutes the Batman fought himself to consciousness, a struggle almost as exhausting as the one with Bane. Silence greeted him. He hoped it was just a lull and not something wrong with his ears. Dimly he knew that he could not stay there, that people were coming. That's right, he had notified the police. He needed to get out of there. He could not let Jim Gorden, or worse, some other cop find him like this. He didn't even bother trying to imagine the ramifications. He needed… he needed…Alfred. That's right, Alfred would help, make it right, make the pain go away. When was Alfred coming? Oh, yea… he needed to call Alfred. Slowly, excruciatingly, he brought his left arm up to his face, the right one would have been better because communications was in the right ear, but that arm didn't want to move, and he wasn't going to argue. Carefully he turned his head over so the right side now faced the sky. He taped an invisible button.**

"…**Alfred…" he struggled to whisper "Alfred… I need… I need… I'm at the –the old south district… I need… I need... Alfred?" Why wasn't he answering? Was there something wrong with Alfred? Had some one burned down the house? _Focus. Clarity. No- no pain_. The house was fine, Alfred was fine; the helm had not survived the impact, cracks spider-webbed up and down that whole side. That was why Alfred was not answering. There was nothing wrong with Alfred; there was something wrong with him. **

**Alfred could not help him. Who else was there? No one. Except… he carefully edged his hand so that he could reach under the gauntlet of his left hand. This of course meant that he would have to use his right side. _There is no pain. There is no pain. There is no pa_-… Got it. A new device cooked up by Alfred and Bruce on a few of those rare occasions when the Master was not needed elsewhere. He pressed the button and hoped it would work. A few minutes of silence, then a few more, then the comforting hum of the Tumbler, he still could not bring himself to call it the media dubbed 'bat mobile', rumbled up, stopping a couple yards from his own prone figure. Two yards had never seemed so long. He wondered what time in was. Probably late, I mean early. Dawn was probably coming. Alfred would be worried. He remembered a time, long ago, when he had gone on an adventure to fight evil and gotten himself terribly lost. In his own back yard. He had a big yard. It had gotten late and Alfred had gotten worried and come looking for him. So had his Mom and Dad, but, they wouldn't come looking for him ever agai- _There is no pain. There is no pain_. Focus. The point was that if he didn't get home then Alfred would worry, and that was bad. He began to pull himself towards the car. As he dragged himself into the cockpit he was struck by a thought. That time, long ago, he was scared of the night. Now he was scared of the day. That struck him as extremely funny. Not a good sign. He set the auto pilot for home. **

**A loud beeping brought him from semi-consciousness. _There is no pain. _He was sprawled in the front seat of the tumbler. _There is no pain_. It was traveling down a dirt road. _No pain. _A soft feminine voice was speaking:**

"**Prepare for ramp-less jump."**

**What? _No pain._ Right. The tumbler had almost gotten him home. The auto pilot could navigate the streets, reasonably, but could not make the jump needed to enter the cave. He had to be awake for that. _No pain_. He shifted him self into position and placed his hand on the throttle. _No pain_. He inanely hoped that the auto pilot had obeyed the rules of the road. He didn't want another lecture about thrill seeking from Alfred. Alfred. _No pain_. He needed to see Alfred. _No pain. No pain. There is no pain_. **

"**Now please," came the soft voice.**

**He throttled up and pushed the button. The tumbler careened out into open air. Then crashed down, jarring its passenger. _There is _no_ pain._ He had to stop before he hit someone- something. He wasn't sure what stopped him: the break, or the wall. Probably both. He thought he would just sit here a bit.**

**An indeterminable amount of time later, Bruce opened his eyes. Pain. Bad idea. Where was Alfred? He should be here. He must know that Bruce had returned, he had installed that device to alert him of entry into the cave. He thought he was so sneaky and clever, but Bruce had known about it before Alfred finished making it. They didn't call him the world's greatest detective for nothing. But Alfred got a kick out of 'surprising' Bruce, and Bruce got a kick out of Alfred getting a kick, so he never let on he knew. But what all that meant was that… if Alfred wasn't in the cave, something was wrong. And it was up to Bruce to find out what. If he could get out of the car. **

**He released the roof. That was hard. And that was the easy part. Now he had to get to the intercom which was situated at the bottom of the stairs, over a dozen feet away. Step one: banish pain. There is no pain. That wasn't working. There is not much pain. Better. Step two: get out of the Car. Using mainly his left hand and mustering some strength to his feet, he managed to roll out of the car and onto the floor. _There is no pain_. _No pain. No pain._ Step three: call Alfred. Bruce began to pull himself across the floor. _There is no pain, call Alfred._ Soon the world narrowed to one intercom box and two thoughts. _There is no pain. Call Alfred. There is_ no_ pain. Alfred. No pain. No pain. No pain! Alfred!_ He'd never know how far he got before his body betrayed him. **

"I knew that I could not allow any criminals or even the police to find me that way, so I called the Tumbler, and set the auto pilot for home," finished Bruce and as far as he was concerned that was all Alfred needed to know.

"Master Bruce, do you know at which time you returned to the cave?"

"I- I'm sorry, Alfred," hesitated Bruce, "It's all rather confused." It had been four thirty.

"Really, Alfred, you must not beat yourself up over this," scolded Leslie, "You got there as fast as you could."

"Ah, yes, of course. I think I'll just go get a fresh pot of tea."

"Don't mind him, Brucie dear, you just gave him a rather bad scare, he'll be fine, we all will."

"I'm sure we will." He paused a wry smile pulling at the side of his mouth, "You know, its been a long time since anyone I can stand being around called me 'Brucie'."

"Oh, yes, sorry. I suppose it's just 'Master Bruce' now," she said, adopting a phony British accent "but I do suppose you _are_ rather old for it."

"No. No, I like it. It reminds me of…," he trailed off "Well, you know…"

"That I do… Brucie."

A/N: Poor Alfred... Anyway this is still not the end. You can't get rid of me that easy. So please review (I luvs reviews ; ) ), and I'll try to post more soon!


	12. Ch 12 Recovered

Lapses

Chapter 12: Recovered

"Master Bruce! Do you really think this is wise sir?"

"You heard Leslie. She said I was fine."

"She said you were better."

"Same thing."

"It is not, Master Bruce."

Bruce sighed in exasperation. He'd lost count of how many times they had had this conversation since coming home from Leslie's clinic that afternoon. It had been almost three weeks and thanks to Bane's venom, sort of, Bruce was recovered. So he insisted. But he'd been saying that for two weeks. Alfred and Leslie had stopped trying to reason with him after two days and simply threatened to go reveal his identity to Gordon if the Batman showed so much as one pointy ear out of the cave. Grudgingly, Bruce agreed to wait until Leslie declared him fit. 'Better' was close enough for him.

"Alfred," asked Bruce, "have you seen the paper?"

"Yes sir," murmured the butler.

"They know the Batman is missing, some are even saying he's dead. Do you know how much we will be set back if they continue this way. We were just making progress. We need to let them know the Batman is still alive."

"And that is the way I want to keep him, Sir." Bruce's hard feature's softened.

"Look, Alfred. I promise not to go after any criminal organizations tonight, and I'll try my best to avoid fighting more than seven at once. Okay?" smiled Bruce as he headed down to the Cave.

"That man will be the death of me," sighed Alfred melodramatically.

"Master Bruce," said Alfred as he handed him the cowl "if you fully intend to do this, as obviously you do," he said eyeing the fully armored Bruce, sans helm "I would suggest stopping at the Greentree Estate on your way into town. I believe there is someone there who would be much comforted by your renewed presence."

"I'll keep that in mind, try to make a short stop." said Bruce Wayne as he slipped on the cowl.

"She is not the only one in Gotham in need of reassurance," said the Batman.

Seconds later the Tumbler roared out from under the concealing water curtain and into the night.

A/N: Hope all you guys who're still with me enjoyed that short chapter. But don't despair, as soon as you REVIEW, you can move on to the next chapter, which I have already posted! (but please do review)


	13. Ch 13 Assurance

Lapses

Chapter 13: Assurance

Night fall found the Batman not on the streets of Gotham, but lurking outside of the Greentree Estate. As Bruce Wayne he had visited the residence upon occasion and had almost subconsciously noted the placement and type of all their security measures. The Batman would rather this be a private affair.

Quickly the dark being located a blind spot and slipped easily through the perimeter. Using the shadows in the lavish garden to cover his movement, he carefully made his way up toward the house. The spikes on his gauntlets proved unnecessary as the weathered stone that made up the outside of the large home provided many handholds. Ascetically pleasing, but not very practical as far as security was concerned. The dark form made its perch outside of the girl's window. Carefully he caused the security system to form a recurring loop, ensuring that it could be opened without alerting the rest of the house. Softly, black shrouded fingers tapped on the glass. A small stirring came from the lilac bed frothing with lace pu against the far corner. The tapping came again, louder this time. The girl, Jenn, shot up in bed, head whipping toward the sound. The horned shadow quickly put a finger to his lips, wishing now that he had thought of a less frightening way to reassure the child. But he needen't have worried. As soon as she recognized him, she threw off her covers and scampered across the floor. When she was close enough she jumped up onto the window seat and threw open the glass. It was a good thing he had taken care of the security system.

"Batman?" she asked excitement and some trepidation evident in her eyes. The Bat nodded his affirmative. Suddenly Jenn turned into a small human projectile, arms wrapping vise-like around the Dark Knight's chest. His arm, steadying himself on the window ledge was all that stopped the two from falling back to the ground floor.

"I'm so happy to see you," cried Jenn Greentree, "I heard them say that you were dead and that the scary man got taken away and that he wasn't coming back. But I didn't think that you were dead, and you're not. And if you're alive then maybe the scary man will come back, even if daddy said he wasn't. But I don't know. You wouldn't let him hurt anyone, right? Is he gone now, Batman?" the young voice trembled, needing to hear words of comfort from her erstwhile protector. The Batman was stunned. Sure, children never seemed as scared of him as criminals, but this. No one hugged the Batman. Not even Leslie would. "He said he was going to hurt me, Batman." whispered the small voice, as excitement turned to fear, and thin arms grasped at the Dark Knight as if he was her only protection. Hesitantly, tenderly the night creature put his unoccupied hand around the girl and care fully stroked her hair as he dimly, ever so dimly, remembered his mother do for him when he was small.

"No, no. I wouldn't let him hurt you. Don't worry, he is gone." The rasping voice could almost be called soft. Almost. "I'm here to protect. Remember that." The girl looked solemnly into his eyes and nodded. "You won't worry any more."

"Nope. I promise," she replied as she was set lightly back onto her window seat.

"And tell your father to improve his security." Jenn turned around sleepily.

"What?" but the Batman was gone, window closed, and security system back in place. But not once was Jenn tempted to think she imagined it. She turned over, and for the fist time in weeks fell into a sleep untroubled by scary men.

The Batman glanced once more a the warm light coming from the Greentree Estate, especially that coming from the room swathed in purple, before turning resolutely toward the cold confines of Gotham City. He had done all he could there, he hoped it helped.

A/N: the name Jenn Greentree is sort of a homage to Jenn Redgrove of Eccentric Banshee's story _Haven. _Other than the strange spin off on the name, the charictors really have nothing in common. Yea, anyway, if you want to read a really good Batman Begins fanfic that is not Crane oriented, go read hers! But before you do that REVIEW this chapter please! (and don't worry, there's only a couple more chapters before those two most bitter sweet words.)


	14. Ch 14 Wake

Lapses

Chapter 14: Wake

A/N: read, relax, and review guys! (oh, and the title refers to the ceremony held after a person is killed, you know, a wake. Just in case that was confusing.)

James Gordon stared morosely in to his coffee. He imagined that he could see the last minute traces of heat escaping into the perennial chill of Gotham's night. He honestly didn't know what he was going to do. One of Gotham's resident freaks had just escaped from Arkham; he'd swear that building had more holes than a sieve. All official lines of inquiry, and some not so official, had dried up. He supposed that they would have to wait for him to pull a big job before they could pick up the trail again. It was bad enough trying to keep up with the straight out crime in Gotham without having to second guess and worry about those crazies. That was the Batman's territory. But behind Jim the Signal remained unlit. It hadn't been brought to life since the night after Bane was brought in.

Jim was a cop, not to mention a damn good detective. He put together what happened. Along with the crime scene evidence, the testimonials of Bane and his thugs, let alone the slightly frantic ramblings of the Greentree girl led Gordon to believe that the Bat had indeed perished.

He didn't know if he could call the Dark Knight a friend, but he trusted him more that the rest of the police force put together, though the force was noticeably improving. The Bat had once told him that Gordon would never have to thank him for what he did for the city. HIS city. Now Gordon found himself wishing he had all the same. He thought of his family, his wife Sara, and baby daughter Barbra. He wondered if the Batman had had family. It was odd trying to imagine the bat sitting down to dinner with kids, or even a mother or father. But he supposed it was possible, I mean, the guy was human. Probably.

Regardless of what exactly the Batman was the city was slowly sinking with out his wings to hold it aloft. The police were doing what they could, but the department was understaffed and Gordon still wouldn't trust a fifth of them to guard a vending machine. To make matters worse, the scum were already circulating rumors of the Dark Knight's demise; even the press was starting to sniff around. They would have to be ready. When news got out, there would be celebrations on and under the streets followed by one of the biggest crime sprees in Gotham's history. And with Gotham's history, that was not easy to do.

'_God rest your soul, Batman_,' thought Gordon, '_and may you find more peace then I._' He sighed as he gazed at the Signal swimming through Gotham's clouds.

Wait. Signal. Swimming. Through. Clouds. He hadn't turned the Signal on. Slowly he spun on his heel. There he was. Standing behind the Signal.

"You have something for me." he rasped.

Oh, lord did he ever.

A/N: okay guys, this is the second to last chapter. starts to tear up I just want you all to know how grateful I am you've kept with me this far.

Also a quick thanks to all those of you who have reviewed and left no return address, I would thank you in person, as I have all the others, but as I am too dense in the ways of computers to figure out how, this will have to do.


	15. Ch 15 Duty

Lapses

Chapter 15: Duty

The roar of the tumbler entering the Cave brought the elderly gentleman in the wingback chair to consciousness. He had been waiting for the return of his charge when the late hour and tension of the last few weeks had finally taken their toll and he had slipped into sleep. Now, he was up and standing by the side of the monstrous vehicle as the roof slid open.

"Alfred." greeted the Batman.

"Sir," responded the Butler, standing aside so that he may emerge from the car. Slowly the dark figure reached up to remove his cowl.

"I don't suppose you have any tea down here?" asked Bruce, wincing as he lowered his arm.

"Master Bruce, what have you done to your shoulder?"

"Nothing." A look from Alfred prompting him to continue, "Just a bruise."

"I seem to recall you promising to be more careful sir."

"I promised not to fight more than seven at once. There were six."

"And the criminal returned to Arkham?"

"All I had to do was point Jim in the right direction, and follow them just in case he got away. He didn't."

"Very well, sir. I was simply worried."

"I know, Alfred."

"Well, sir, if you would like to go change, I will prepare some tea for you before you retire."

"Thanks Alfred." said his former ward as he headed down the stone hall.

Alfred paused as he climbed the stairs on the far wall, looking back at the black wingback chair now situated in it's own corner of the cave, probably the only truly comfortably piece there. He knew that in a few days Master Bruce would stop trying to limit the Batman's criminal contact in any way shape or form, and things would go back to the way they were before. Or almost, thought the old butler recalling Leslie's new knowledge. He took one last look at the Batcave's newest implement before continuing up toward the house. There was one thing he knew with absolute certainty, never again would he lapse in his duties.

The End

A/N: there you have it guys, the very end. I hope it was enjoyable for all of you reading as it was for me writing. And if it was indeed so, I implore you all to give me one last review.

Ever Yours,

Delia Ra'Nar


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